Colin Fucking Baker
by shippershape
Summary: Based off a tumblr post suggesting that Kirsten could wake Cameron up from a coma by listing all 12 Doctors. This isn't exactly that.


Kirsten has been sitting beside Cameron's bed for six days. The NSA claimed full responsibility for what happened to him, even though the lab knows that choice was entirely his own. Still, the agency paid for a private room, which came equipped with a shower and full bathroom. Cameron hasn't been conscious to make use of the shower, but Kirsten has. She refused to leave the hospital, and once it became apparent that Camille wouldn't be able to convince her to go home, or physically drag her out of the room, she began bringing her friend a daily change of clothes.

"Doesn't your back hurt?" Camille asks, dropping a duffel bag on the floor in front of her. Kirsten frowns.

"No. Why?"

"You've been sleeping in that chair for almost a week. It probably should." Camille mutters. Kirsten just shrugs. Silence follows, and eventually the brunette just sighs and leaves, leaving Kirsten alone with Cameron.

"You need to wake up." She says softly. It doesn't work. She isn't surprised. For the past two days she's spent most of the daylight hours talking to him, trying to get the attention of whatever piece of consciousness he's still holding onto.

"Fisher is going to be okay." She tells him. His heart monitor beeps steadily, the only response she ever gets.

"Les Turner is dead."

Still nothing.

"Maggie's a nudist. Linus released an R&B album. Camille joined a monastery."

Deafening silence.

"I love you."

The buzzing of the fluorescent lights is beginning to give her an eye twitch. She sighs. Grabbing the duffel bag, she heads for the shower.

After, she talks to him as she brushes her hair. It's all nonsense, but it doesn't matter. Now that she's started talking to him, stopping would feel like giving up. So she reads him an article from a foodie magazine that someone left at the nurse's station, looks up his horoscope, and catches him up on all the shows he follows. When the dark creeps in through the windows, she admits defeat for the day. Pulling her chair right up to his bed, she leans back and yawns. She keeps talking as sleep ebbs in around her, half-mumbling phrases that don't even make sense.

"What did you just say?" At first she thinks she's dreamt it, that voice that's rough, and quiet, and a little bit like Cameron's. Eyes still closed, she repeats the last thing she said.

"Colin Baker was the best doctor." She mumbles. She barely even knows who Colin Baker is, just that Cameron complains about him and mutters at the TV every time they watch an episode of Doctor Who where he appears.

"Are you insane?" The rough voice raises three octaves, sounding immensely more like Cameron. These dreams are her favourite, the ones where he's awake, and fine, and exactly himself. She smiles to herself.

"Comic books aren't real literature." She knows that will spur imaginary-Cameron on.

"Okay, now I'm just offended, Stretch."

"Well I…w-wait-" Her eyes fly open, and she bolts up in her seat. Blinking in the dim light, she stares at the bed beside her. Cameron is smiling at her, eyes hooded with sleep and painkillers, hair tousled from days being mashed into the rough hospital pillows. All she can see is blue. Blue staring at back at her, eyes that she's missed with a physical ache in her chest.

"Hi." He says. She freezes, afraid to move, afraid she'll wake up and this will all be a dream and that blue will be gone again, hidden under closed lids. His smile slips off his face, what Kirsten assumes are seconds tick by. "Kirsten?"

She starts at the sounds of her name, reaching out slowly to brush her fingertips across the back of his hand. A static shock crackles when she touches him, and she pulls back with a hiss. He's still staring at her.

"Cameron." She breathes, because a shock is as good as a pinch and she knows she's not dreaming now. His lopsided grin reappears.

"Hey, Stretch." He holds out his arms, clearly expecting her to lean into them. Instead, she grabs a pillow from under his head, hitting him with it as hard as she can.

"Ow!" He shouts, arms shooting up to block anymore incoming attacks. "What the hell was that?"

She glares at him.

"I cannot _believe_ that's what woke you. Colin. Fucking. Baker." She emphasizes the last six syllables with a few more blows with the pillow. Cameron squawks, but she can hear him giggling underneath it. She's furious, she realizes, but it's accompanied with a relief so strong it's almost tangible. Her emotions are still confusing to her, so she sets that aside for now. Cameron reaches up, snatching the pillow out of her hand.

"For the record." He mutters, eyes intense on her face. "I heard everything." There's something in his tone that suggests she said something she needs to remember. She runs over the last 48 hours in her head, everything she- _oh._ She sits back down with a thud.

"Maggie isn't really a nudist." She offers. He snorts. Her face softens. "But I meant the other thing." His face lights up, that blue is almost blinding, and she feels his fingers slip in between hers.

"Good." He says. She doesn't hesitate before climbing into bed next to him, slinging one leg over his. He speaks again, and his chest vibrates beneath her. "Because I can't wait to hear Linus's new album."


End file.
